


Darkest Before Dawn

by Abby_Ebon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: M/M, Magic, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abby_Ebon/pseuds/Abby_Ebon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SLASH. Twilight x Harry Potter. 6th Year; Half-Blood Prince. After meeting briefly the vampire Sanguini, Harry Potter finds himself in Volterra, Italy, under the watchful gaze of the Volturi. What ever could they want of a wizard? Marcus/Harry/Carlisle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Between A Rock And A Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> So, everyone else is reading and writing Twilight/Harry Potter crossovers, so, I got bored of it and decided to try it myself - with a twist – or two. For example….
> 
> Did'ya happen to know/remember that Rowling had a vampire in one of her books, only, you see, he was kind of glossed over and forgotten by the end of the chapter. I mean, all that really happened in the encounter was his over-enthusiastic human "brother" babbling about writing the biography of the Boy-Who-Lived, I mean, blah, who wants to read about more wizards swooning over Harry?
> 
> So, yeah, the forgotten vampire….until now, the poor sod….

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, and old student of mine, author of _Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires_ – and, of course, his friend Sanguini." –Slughorn, " _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ "

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"This isn't going well." Sanguini murmured silkily, bloody eyes roving over the humans clustered about like so many sheep. He seemed tired with the shadows that lingered beneath his narrowed eyes. His wizard companion shifted uneasily. Eldred knew differently - Sanguini was as alert as he had ever been, and just as powerful. He was only now growing impatient toward their task.

"Sanguini, you must see that I've _tried_ – if he was a little more _interested_ in a biography, maybe we could do it-but he isn't, you have to face facts ,this is not going to work." Eldred muttered sulkily, chewing on his bottom lip in thought, his gaze never straying far from Slughorn and the boy he tottered about like a trophy.

"That isn't good enough. We'll have to try some other way." Sanguini watched more discretely then Eldred, though his gaze lingered on the pale girl with copper hair and silvery eyes that Harry clutched to his side like a life line. It was _curious_ that Harry Potter had brought _her_ instead of one or both of his two other more well known friends; Ron and Hermione. Perhaps it was merely that they were elsewhere in this gathering, perhaps not.

"What does the girl mean to him…?" Sanguini directed toward their host, for only a moment Slughorn seemed surprised that the vampire had known he was listening in. He thought he had been discreet with slipping away from Potter. He wanted to make sure Eldred wouldn't make a scene at being brushed aside as he had.

"I'm not sure, though it is curious." Slughorn found himself saying, as he felt it would be rude to ignore such a blunt question from a guest. He had intended to say something entirely different until Sanguini had caught his eyes.

"Unusual isn't it…?" Eldred trailed off, glancing to the empty seat beside him with a resigned expression. Slughorn stood dazed beside him, blinking blankly, with a sigh Eldred glanced about for someone Slughorn would know and totter over to, as if he were drunk. He wasn't though. Only a fool, as even _he_ had known better then to meet Sanguini's gaze. Did not one wizard or witch read his book?

"Over there, Slughorn, isn't that Severus Snape?" Eldred pointed out with a wave of his hand – the gesture caught Slughorn's attention, his eyes following it until staring bemusedly at the tall darkly dressed former Potions professor.

"Oh it is, I must go…do excuse me…." Slughorn trailed off, walking toward Severus only to cling to him a moment later when his balance almost failed him. Severus looked disgusted, but Eldred chuckled, only lowering his eyes. Everyone would think only that their host had had a little too much to drink, for whom in his right mind would drag about Severus Snape like some great stuffed bat?

Eldred stood up, pressing his lips together as he looked for Harry Potter and did not find him. Sanguini was no where to be seen either. It was time to go.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Harry felt cold. Things – not very important, he mused – but still vivid and more real to him fluttered though his mind. He remembered Luna asking him if he wanted something to drink and then skipping off to fetch something. He remembered Snape glaring down at him while an almost drunken Slughorn praised his potion and brewing skills. He remembered the stranger – the vampire – that he hadn't taken notice of before, approaching him.

Helping him…

He'd only asked that Harry come with him, to talk to Eldred Worple about writing his biography. Maybe something could be worked out. Harry remembered agreeing, it was the least he could do. He remembered Luna looking at him worriedly as he left – someone…Ron –or Hermione…both? -had asked about going to the Burrow, but at that moment in time, it hadn't been important. Nothing was as important as repaying Sanguini for getting him away from Snape's suspicious glare.

He'd told them he'd meet them later.

Was it later? How much later?

Why was he cold? It felt as if he was settled in snow, but it was hard – pressed up against him, smothering. He could breathe though, so he did not panic. He heard footsteps, not the careful rhythmic movements he had grown used to – was he being _carried_ …? - but a rushed shuffle.

"Sanguini…this, this isn't what we agreed…what have your people _done_ to him?" He knew this voice, had heard it before, raving at him. Asking a question he hadn't liked. He made a soft disquieted noise in the back of his throat; he wanted to ask what was going on…why was he so cold? Suddenly there was movement, shifting – breathing, speaking. Someone was holding him against a cold chest with cold muscles and stone like skin.

"You are dismissed, Eldred." That was the name of the voice he had recognized (Eldred Worple, who had wanted to tell the world about who he _really_ was)…and this voice – this was Sanguini. Harry blinked open his eyes, wanting to see though he hadn't known his eyes were closed.

"Sanguini…?" Eldred was looking at him, then to Sanguini. There was something like panic creeping into his eyes.

"All debts between us have been settled." Sanguini murmured reassuringly to Eldred, who did not meet the vampire's eyes. Instead he looked at Harry, he was torn, and it was as if he finally realized what it was he had done. Harry wished someone would tell him what was going on.

"I…why…?" Eldred pleaded, voiceless.

"Leave." Sanguini's voice was cold now, as cold as his body. There was nothing of kindness or humanity within it. Eldred took a step back – and then another – and then he ran. Harry remembered looking around to see the outside of Hogwarts, then there was movement – there were too many things too see, they were playing tag with the wind and winning. Sanguini was running; it was like being on a broomstick – moving quickly and near the ground.

Harry didn't remember when they had stopped.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"So, you are awake little wizard…" Sanguini did not sound surprised. Indeed, it seemed to Harry that he was expected to wake. Sanguini was waiting for him to wake up. It did nothing to dispel the uneasy knot that squirmed within his stomach-something about this was wrong. So very wrong.

Harry looked about himself, he was in a bed, – the sheets were green, he absently noticed – in a room that could have fit the Gryffindor dorm. He saw no windows, though there were paintings; all along the wall was an unbroken painting of a garden in very strange taste, or, rather, a taste that was plainly not human.

The images were of people who should have been in pain – a crown of thorns, sliced wrists, bites bleeding freely. All those very human eyes were dazed and fading with life ,yet their bodies were writhing in pleasure. There were impressions of creatures –shapes, and eyes - that watched these people, in the shadows. Somehow Harry thought he knew their expression would be hungry.

"Wh-where am I?" Harry stammered though he could not take his eyes from the painting. It was just as well, for he remembered what had happened the last time he had met Sanguini's eyes. Harry did learn from his mistakes, no matter what had been implied otherwise in recent days.

"Italy, beneath the city of Volterra…city of the Volturi." Harry knew the significance of that claim. He swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry. He remembered the one day he had bothered to stay awake during History of Magic. Vampires-who were normally solitary individuals – had started to gather in a coven at about the time Hogwarts was created. They had made themselves into the law of the vampires, and so long as a vampire followed those laws, the Volturi were content. They were the biggest coven ever recorded; to cross them meant death.

"Why have you…taken me?" Harry tried not to look at the disturbing imagery along the walls – or at Sanguini. Instead he looked at his hands. His wand was gone.

"That is not for me to say." Sanguini told him firmly, though his tone was kind. Harry heard him start to get up, and looked up quickly – Sanguini had his back turned to him. Here, he was not a threat to anyone. He was helpless. He hated it.

"Please…" Harry did not know what to ask first – Sanguini had paused, frozen and listening. He wanted to know how long he was going to be kept here. He wanted to know what they were going to do with him. Could a wizard become a vampire? It bothered him that he did not know even that.

"We mean you no harm, Harry Potter. Indeed, quite the opposite. It will all be explained to you. Until then, rest – make yourself at home, you are our guest." Sanguini had not turned to face him throughout his little speech. Harry wondered if there was that much of a difference between a prisoner and a guest. He was aware, though, that the Volturi held to the same sort of old high-handed honor codes that the Ministry clung to.

By the time Harry had thought that, Sanguini had fled though the door, though he had been so swift Harry had not seen or heard him move this time. Obviously, he felt he had done his duty by staying by Harry's bedside until he woke. Harry inhaled, somewhat bemused and annoyed, and smelt something he hadn't noticed until then. His stomach rumbled hungrily.

By his bedside there was a table, upon that a tray, with a fork. There was a glass of milk, pancakes (though no butter or syrup) and a banana. At least they knew they had to feed him human-food. Though not, apparently,caring to add anything that was supposed to add flavor to the food.

Harry felt an odd sort of relief in that knowledge. They – the Volturi – made mistakes.

 


	2. Nothing As It Seems

**Horatio:**  
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

 **Hamlet:**  
And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.  
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,  
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

- _Hamlet: Act 1, scene 5._

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"It is good that you have eaten." Harry became aware that he had drifted off to sleep (had the food been drugged?) when he heard _her_ voice. It chimed like a little girl, but it was not. He knew that much, for her voice-as sweet and charming as it was - brought sharply to mind the passageways and cold walls beneath starkness of the pain he had endured was laid out as if a raw wound. Harry flinched away, though he was not yet awake.

As he blinked open blurry eyes (his glasses were gone, along with his wand – he was at a complete disadvantage) feeling slow and distant to the world he was waking to, he saw her. She sat beside him, her pale hands folded beneath her chin, her crimson eyes never straying from his face. It was all too eerie. She looked like a little china doll for all the life that her eyes showed him. She smiled slowly, and he somehow he knew he'd much rather be face to face with the Dark Lord's wand, than to have her sitting so close to him.

"Master will be pleased." A voice -softer then the girls– agreed from somewhere further away.

Harry jerked to sit up, but quickly realized what he had thought to be the weight of blankets tangled about his feet was, in reality, a boy sitting on his lower legs. It was as if the boy and girl were a matched set. If it were not for slight differences in their mouths, and the fact they were boy and girl, Harry would have thought that he would have been seeing double. It was in their voices that the real difference of them became apparent . Unlike his companions, the boys reminded Harry of the echoing silence,the stillness, the lonely depression, of the empty secret tunnel that passed between Hogwarts into Hogsmeade.

He shivered; though it was not noticeably cold within the stone walls, it seemed to him as if there was a sudden _some_ _thing_ between him and the life-giving warmth, cutting him off, slowly killing him.

"Do not fear, little wizard, we are to be your keepers while you are our guest. We will ensure no harm will come to you." There was something _terrifying_ that lingered in the smile that was supposed to be reassuring. Harry knew, looking at them, that they were playing – _acting_ \- the part of children to comfort him and conceal their natures. It was an illusion, likely, thathad fooled a great many people. Harry, however, was not convinced.

Their bloody eyes measured him, calculating strengths and weaknesses. They were weapons – worse, they _knew_ they were weapons and delighted in being horrifying. It was wrong, both that they looked like little children, and that they pretended to be what they were not. Harry felt the goose bumps along his skin, he sensed the curious eyes on him, and still he knew not to look them in the eyes.

"What are your names…?" Harry asked still sitting up – his head came up higher then the girls so he could avoid looking at her though he studied the curls of her hair. The weight of the boy shifted off his legs, as if only now reassured that Harry would not flee or do something foolish.

"I am Jane –this, my twin brother Alec – , and we know well who _you_ are, little wizard." Those words were purred as Jane leaned over to kiss his cheek. Jane giggling in his ear when he flinched, Harry glanced to Alec only to find the other vampire grinning wickedly at his sisters antics. There would be no rescue.

Harry flushed, not sure if he was furious or embarrassed – but all the same he did not meet their eyes. It was then, when the vampire at his side sighed softly, that he realized his mistake.

 _Blood_.

Alec, as if sensing his realization- before he could move, crawled once again atop his legs, straddling his thighs. It _should_ have been easy to throw him off – if he looked the weight he wa- but he was not the child he appeared, indeed, his weight was as easy to lift as boulders. Harry's eyes flicked to Jane – she sighed softly looking down at him longingly, her face close enough that her lips brushed his ear.

"You would do well to remember what we are…wizard." It was whispered into his ear, he felt it ringing in his head. They might be the last words he heard. He struggled against Alec, but it was useless. His fingers clenched in the bed sheets as he wished for his wand. His magic boiled and flowed and flexed within him, ready to leap to his help – if he only had the words, the right wand, the movement of his hands.

"R-right..." Harry sputtered the word, closing his eyes because with her this close – practically breathing him in like a chocolate cake or just barbequed steak – he couldn't risk accidently looking her in the eye. He remembered what looking in Sanguini's bloody eyes had done to him. He could not risk being so helpless again – even though he was sure he was as good as dead now, not sure if 'again' would come for him.

"I could have a little taste…just to _tease_ , Master would never know." Jane mused softly, her fingers playing with his hair. Gentle tugs became pain and Harry clenched his teeth and jaw, determined, for he _knew_ Jane _wanted_ him to open his eyes. Alec moved then from his seat on Harry's felt a breathe of hope flit over him, until he realized that Alec was not moving away – he was moving _closer_.

"Master would not be pleased." Alec told her in a hushed tone; as if he finally realized his sisters little game of 'scare the wizard' was turning serious. Her lips still pressed against his ear, he _felt_ her smile. He wondered if Alec was now playing a 'game' too. Did the other vampire even realize he was being manipulated?

Harry wondered, while he was tangled in Jane's dangerous game, how far her treachery went. He could easily tell, this was not the first time they had played at this sort of game. Harry thought he knew what the end result would be, for he knew one day, they would go too far.

He only hoped this wasn't that "one day".

"Would you tell on _me_ , Alec?" Jane asked of Alec, pressing her lips in a line (he felt the movement against the sensitive skin of his ear).Apparently Alec had not shifted his stance (Harry felt him, cold as stone and empty as a winter night hovering above his chest ,straddling it and his waist, pressing down slightly with his weight). Harry could tellwhatever Alec's features were did not please Jane. He wondered if Alec had not smiled back. With his eyes closed, he could not see, but he could hear them breathing, felt them watching each other, like two partnered predators reconsidering their bonds.

"You know I would have no choice." Alec finally whispered, hollow and pained - Harry felt his heart skip a beat – Alec had been defeated; he would not stop Jane if she went too far. He flinched away when he felt a small wet tongue lick his neck – he felt as if he were going to burn and die in pain. Yet she had done nothing to hurt him; not yet. He felt then the wetness – _his blood_ – leaking from the nick she had given him.

"If we both tasted him…." Jane pressed her brother, who above Harry had tensed. Harry wondered what the expression on Alec's face might be. Would he be like one in a trance? Like what Sanguini had done to him – following the trail of blood until it trailed, wasted, into the sheets – like a much needed drug?

He felt Jane's cold finger dip into the blood, stilling it, pooling it – Harry wondered, dazedly, did she lick it from her finger? Offer it to her brother to suckle on? He did not want to see what sort of death he'd have.

He knew as well as Jane did that Alec was at a breaking point. There would be no turning back after. Was that what Jane wanted? Was Harry only a means to an end? What would she do after? Harry wished he could warn Alec of his danger – Alec seemed sort of decent, passive, while his sister was aggressive and bold.

"We could turn him after; perhaps Master would be more forgiving…" Alec whispered hesitantly, moving now – closer. Harry pressed his lips tightly together, determined that he would not cry out – he would go without seeing what they did to him. It was a satisfaction he would not give them.

His magic pulled and pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath the surface of his skin. He couldn't use it – could not reach it, he didn't have his wand -, it was maddening.

"Perhaps, though I would _kill_ one of you, little ones." It was as if a burning candle had flared into an inferno. The weight of Alec on his legs had been _flung_ off – someone was here, Harry dared hope that he might live. Jane and the stranger now hovered on either side of him. He felt like they played tug-of-war over the choice - of his death and turning; or continuing on as he was.

Harry only wished he dared open his eyes. That he dare see the face of the one who wanted to save him. There was a growl – like nothing like Harry had ever heard – more feral then a dog's snarl, fiercer then even the three headed dog he had faced. It vibrated in the air; Harry felt it in his bones.

"And I, the other..." That voice, at least – Harry knew.

 _Sanguini_.

Harry opened his eyes. Above him, a strange vampire with dark hair and darker eyes gripped Jane about the throat. His fingers would leave bruises. He showed her his teeth, as if his fingers crushing her windpipe were not enough of a warning. Harry knew vampires did not need to breath – the stranger was not killing her – but the threat was one that not even Harry could ignore. There was nothing subtle in this. This vampire had been pushed to the edge and had had enough – for he was now pushing back with a force. Jane did not seem to enjoy what she had done.

"We were only _playing_ , Demetri….we would do no lasting harm." It was Alec who spoke, softly, reassuring. Harry glanced to where he had been last – but there was no one on his bed. Beyond the bed, flung against the wall – pinned there – was Alec. Sanguini held him there.

"Play _elsewhere_." It was a demand – an order. Alec lowered his head and eyes, though Jane made no such movement – Harry did not think she would, even if Demetri had not had her throat in a grip that would prevent her.

"As you will, Captain..." Alec whispered reassuringly, Demetri let his eyes flick to him – then to Jane before she could take advantage.

"Release him." Demetri hissed glaring at Jane. _R_ _eluctantly_ , Sanguini let Alec stand on his own. Even released, Alec glanced to his sister, hesitating. Harry admired him in that moment; his loyalty at least was lasting. He would not flee, not yet.

"What…what of my sister?" Alec asked softly, eyes lowered to the stone floor. Demetri's lips twisted in something like a grimace,but he did answer, glaring all the while his challenge to Jane, indeed, not something that could be denied or taken lightheartedly.

"She will be _dealt with_ elsewhere." There was a last lingering look between the twins, but Alec left Jane – something, Harry was sure – she would not soon forget. Or forgive.

"Well, my Jane, I must say – I am _disappointed_. We set out bait and you settled your sights upon it like a common scavenger bird." Harry though he was not in direct sight of the vampire who spoke, swallowed by reflex. He felt as if he should close his eyes again, just as a precaution. There was power and feeling to this voice that was played upon – it was not a real feeling, only impressions, echoes. This being embodied something like the ancient sirens in sailor lore. Even if this being was only a vampire, he held the same sort of power.

"M-master…" Jane choked out the word; there must have been a gesture – something – for with a distasteful curl of his lip, Demetri shoved her, with force, away. She lay on the floor, looking up at her master - as if she had meant to be there all alone – she certainly made no movement to get up, and her hand – like a twisted pale butterfly – hovered over her throat.

Harry was all too aware that Demetri was above him. He made no sudden movements – yet Demetri looked down at him, as if the vampire had sensed his gaze – and something in those black eyes shifted, but Harry did not recognize it. He blinked, and abruptly, the weight of the vampire was gone, Demetri had fled. Harry, trembling and trying not to show it, sat up, curling his legs closer to sit cross-legged. He touched the scratch on his neck – it was tender – but it did not bleed.

"…F-forgive me?" It was a broken plea, and if Harry had not been assaulted by her (which he was not about to forget that the vampires had _let_ it happen, as if he were bait) he would have felt some sympathy for her. He wondered how long she had been a vampire, she certainly _looked_ young.

"You will have to earn _that_ , little girl." A different voice murmured, this time Harry looked, and saw the three of them. He stayed still, as if his movements would attract them. Their eyes were bloody, though there was something different about them – there was a film -as if they were blind – over their dull red eyes. They were old… ancient. Their skin was not has hard or stone like as it looked on the other vampires, but layered, almost onion like. Harry wondered if it would be soft.

It was then that he attracted the attention of one of the three – this one had not yet spoken, he had looked blankly into the room – as if he did not truly see it. But he was _looking at_ Harry. His attention did not go unnoticed.

"Marcus….?" The first of the three to speak asked of the other, frowning faintly as if confused. He looked to the second – though the other was equally puzzled by their companion's sudden interest.

"Who…are you? What do you…?" Harry asked, though he could not quite get the words out.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter, you have our apology – you are a guest of the Volturi, forgive us our carelessness in your care. It will not happen again. I am Aro – this is Caius, and Marcus…" Aro trailed off, his puzzled gaze still lingering on Marcus. Harry avoided the ancient vampires gaze, for he was chilled by such intent interest.

"Why am I here?" Harry asked softly feeling as if he was interrupting, for Aro had paused and lingered in his silence, Harry's eyes on the sheets as he studied the pattern there.

"We of the Volturi became aware of your Dark Lord, but what is more troubling, is the vampires who follow him. They have discarded our rules and do not heed our call to order. For this, we show our hand in power – we take that which their wizard-lord desires. You are ours. It is a subtle warning, do you not agree? If we killed you, so much would be wasted. Still, what puzzles us is if their rumors of the wizard-lord being immortal could be true…more fascinatingly, could a wizard be turned to one of our kind and likeness? Now, we have a wizard of our own – so we will wait; either the strays will come to heel, or well, we will see, won't we little wizard?" Aro mused aloud, Harry shuddered visibly – his life, what he would become, was being bargained for as if he would not have a choice; all for _their_ curiosity.

"So, I have no choice in this?" Harry asked, his voice sounded faint and lifeless even to his own ears. Caius snorted softy as if the answer should be obvious; and it was. No matter the words Aro next spoke, dressing it up prettily, it was clear he did not.

"Of course, you will have a _choice_ – you are not mortal, not like we were. Your brothers and sisters are powerful, we remember those whispered wars –before your or my time –those never ended in the favor of your enemies. There are no grudges, little wizard, for your sort were allies of the Volturi. It was with your aid, after all, that we threw down the Roman oppressors of our kind and yours. Still, it is a _curious_ thing to consider, is it not?" Harry knew Aro did not need his words to confirm or deny his own thoughts. Harry took the hint his time, he held his tongue. He knew now where in this web he was. He wondered how long they would play he was a guest before his silence pushed them into action. Did he have days? Months? Or would he be their prisoner for _years_? Vampires, after all, were immortal. They did not need to rush these things.

The magical world – faced with the Dark Lord and the Volturi- had their hands tied. Would the Volturi offer aid, claiming that Harry had asked it of them? Would their ploy of his being their guest be believed by his friends? Would they have a choice in "believing"?

Harry pressed his lips together, knowing he could not ask. He dared not risk it. Jane stirred then, getting up from the floor – careful not to look to Harry – even as she went obediently to Aro's side – he petted her hair, as if she were a favored pet.

A shadow fell upon him, Harry glanced up quickly. His eyes met those of Marcus, and as he watched, something shifted and shivered in the red gaze – it took him a moment to realize that Marcus had his hand out, a delicate wand cradled in the palm of his hand. Harry recognized his wand, he looking up at Marcus, frowning in confusion. Was this a test? What would happen if he took his wand back? Did he dare?

"Take your wand, little wizard, your magic will work here – there is no trick. We have our own protections against spell casting if you try to test us with an attack. A wizard without a wand is a pathetic thing." Caius told him dismissively, as if having heard his thoughts. Or read them from his face. Aro gave Harry a strange smile, and with a lingering look to Marcus, left, Caius following close behind.

Harry looked up at Marcus, swallowing as he wondered what the vampire might do to him if he made the wrong move. Slowly, Harry raised his hand, fingers brushing the smooth wood of his wand – it had never felt so strange to his touch, being between his and a stranger's hand.

Harry closed the tips his fingers around the wand and lifted – there was pull, resistance – as if the wand _recognized_ Marcus and wanted to show Harry its connection. Harry had never felt such a thing. Accidently, the tips of his fingers touched the palm of Marcus' hand – the skin looked deceptively soft, as he had suspected, it felt smooth, polished. His eyes flinched to Marcus, wondering what the vampire would make of his touch – was it all in Harry's head?

There was nothing, though something lurked in the red filmed eyes (recognition? Harry could not name it). As soon as the wand was in his hand, he looked down at it, finding he was reassured. Marcus had given some control back. It was a little thing, but it would make dealing easier for him. He would not be as helpless as he had been. His thoughts did not linger on the thoughts of wards and vampire protections – he knew they had planned such things. Now he knew there were wizards and witches that might realize he was here. It was a small hope.

When he looked up again to say something – to thank Marcus – the ancient vampire was gone.

Harry was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mimikooya's Omake
> 
> "Sanguini, he's not interested in the biography."
> 
> Eldred whispered to the lethargic looking vampire out of the corner of his mouth.
> 
> "You'll have to make him see we won't take no for an answer."
> 
> His companion responded swiftly and with careless finality. You see readers, it is known by few that during Eldred's stay with vampires that his already lacking self esteem hit an all time low. The vampires, though endlessly amused by his skittishness, soon grew tired of his hesitance and chose the most unattractive vampire they could find, which is our dashing Saguini, who is Italian and single to all you looking ladies, to be his confidence coach. Almost akin to a one-vampire cheering squad ("Gimme an 'E'! Gimme an 'L'!..."). In situations where our little Eldren SHOULD give up, Sanguini (Now I'm hungry for Linguine! 0) took a subtle revenge for the babysitting he went through and pushed him a little too hard.
> 
> "There's nothing I can think of that would make him interested!"
> 
> Eldren raised his whisper slightly in frustration, face going slightly pink. Sanguini snapping at of his mesmerized vigil of the blood rushing to his delicious me-companion's face,
> 
> "We'll have to take a different approach then."
> 
> Eldren's face cleared with an epiphany,
> 
> "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
> 
> He said smiling craftily,
> 
> "If you are thinking we corner his date, manhandle her in the hall way, steal her clothes, wear them, and seduce the agreement out of Potter then yes."
> 
> Eldren hissed slyly glee infused his words. Sanguini cuffed him in the back of the head.(Though he was thinking Eldren DESERVED a bitch-slap),
> 
> "No! (You fool!*had to say it! xD*)"
> 
> Sanguini snapped with a snarl. Eldren recoiled. Sanguini took a calming breath cheerleaders aren't suposed to-NO crush that heart! Crush it dead! Now where was he...Oh yes!
> 
> "We'll kidnap him."
> 
> Sanguini said with all the assurance that a man OOZING habitude can.
> 
> "That sounds-"
> 
> Eldren began with obvious doubt before snapping his mouth shut at the vicious hissing of his haggard compadre, or at least he liked to think so. Guini, a 'cute' pet name he thought of, really should stop being so mean. It was almost as if he was bullying him into things, that might make him think his 'cute little friend' didn't like him as much he did the vampire...Nah!
> 
> "I still there should be seduction involved."
> 
> Eldren said with as much bravado he could muster. Sanguini's eyes narrowed. I've unintentionally done a good job...have to work on that...
> 
> "Fine, but I'LL do the seduction you ready our get away."
> 
> Sanguini strode of to just that as Eldren seemed to deflate and pout to no one, but soon seemed excited and nervous with his task. Sanguini never really trusted him to do anything but small tasks before! Like turning on light switches and fetching-well he hadn't graduated to fetching things yet. 'Don't want you to get confused at the labels or DAMAGE anything' he says with a meaningful look, honestly it's like he hasn't trusted me since I dropped that wine bottle that's been in his family for generations...Nah!
> 
> And then Eldren annoyed Sanguini to the point of being homicidal so he sent him away (Eldren: He really DOES care!*w*JOY~!). Before panicking after looking at Harry's unconscious body (Eldren hit him with a club trying to HELPFUL),
> 
> "What do I do with it?! WHAT DO I DO WITH IT?!"
> 
> Sanguini fretted, knowing his parents would be home any moment and then, THEN he might get GROUNDED...


	3. Webs Of The Wives

_Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turn'd_ _  
_ _Nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd._

\- _The Mourning Bride_ , William Congreve

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Where is he? _Wake up you worm_ ; and answer me! What have you done to him?" It was the next day; the day after a very good (or bad?) party which Eldred Worple did not wholly remember. He was being screamed awake by a trilling feminine voice. She didn't sound happy, and Eldred wanted to pretend to sleep – or die.

Somehow though, the urgency that he felt in the grip around his shoulders, small handed though she might be it warned him against ignoring her. Those strangely powerful fingers very were near his neck, where he might be _strangled_ if she were angrier. Perhaps the wisest chose he'd made in his life was opening his eyes.

"To whom..?" Eldred Worple warbled.

"Who? Whom else - _Harry Potter_!" Anger flushed prettily against fair skinned cheeks, and luminous silver eyes brightened with the burnt of her fury upon him. She was very pretty. If he were to judge her ancestral origins, he would have betted – _rightly_ – upon fairy blood running though her.

"I met him?" Eldred asked of her, still blurry eyed and his memory hazy. It had probably been a very good party, then. Maybe he had kept notes on the Boy Who Lived? He went though the motions of checking his robe pockets, and making sure his wand was where he'd last put it. It was, he noted with some relief – before he got notions of using it, it was snatched from his hands.

"Hey!" Eldred protested, trying to reach for it back. A bully of a looking boy, with flame-licked red hair and dancing-amused blue eyes, smirked coldly down at him. His mocking curling lips were the only sign that his fury was equal to the fair elfin girl-child. He didn't look like one to be wisely crossed. His hands were large, and he must have played some sort of wizard sport to have muscles of those sorts along his lanky frame. Most with magic wouldn't have bothered, past a certain age it wasn't usually done to fly for sport. Yet the young man looking down at him, sprawled in the grass of the Hogwart's field, looked the sort to be both magically and physically powerful.

"I'll take that." He snapped, his anger getting the better of him as he spoke, fierce blue eyes narrow and daring Eldred to protest. Eldred shut his mouth, swallowed, and very wisely shut up.

"Don't you dare _ignore_ me…!" It was hissed softly through clenched teeth, and Eldred found himself plucked from the ground, held aloft. His feet dangling, toes just brushing the grass; looking down in surprise at the pale girl-child, slender and small looking who glared up at him. Vulnerable and breakable were words that came to mind, looking upon her. Yet she was holding him aloft, taking his weight with clearly inhuman ease.

"I – I, uh, wasn't Miss – but…my wand?" Eldred spoke, his tone whining in his sudden fear. He saw at once that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Answer me; _where is Harry Potter_!" She shrieked, and Eldred saw at once that her ears were sharpening to points. She must have more fairy blood in her then he thought; for usually wizards and witches with that sort of blood weren't nearly so strong as the fairy themselves, merely pretty little things that flocked to power and politics- or the odd ones, who whispered of creatures unseen and prophesy.

"I…I don't know! I've never met him." Eldred stuttered, his words rushing out of him, eager to appease.

"You did, don't lie – we saw you last night." It wasn't the fiery red headed boy that spoke; no this was a girl with wild brown hair that looked as if it took after a bush, and sharp brown eyes. Her earthly beauty was second only to her intelligence; it wasn't to be trifled with. She wasn't one to be easily fooled.

"He isn't lying. He thinks he's telling the truth. That vampire's done something to him." It was the unearthly fairy girl who spoke, setting him down on his feet. She was still shorter, and still looked at him measuring.

It struck Eldred then, what an odd group this was – a boy that took on the likeness of fire, a girl that held the wisdom of ages of the earth-mother, and an airy fairy girl-child who had fierceness in her own right. Magic did this to them, of course – but why? Were they so powerful magic brought them closer to the elements, rather then keeping their likeness to flesh and blood? What – or who – would they all so earnestly protect? It came to him like a blow; Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was missing! And these three had gone searching for him!

"Great. He's useless, and our only lead; other then that vampire fellow Sanguini, who ran. What are we going to do now?" Blue eyes had pulled away from him, disinterested now that Eldred was dismissed so easily by the little half-fae. He felt a moment of spite against them, that they were so preoccupied with each other and the Boy Who Lived that they couldn't show a little respect for their elders.

"We'll ask my mother. Come along." Without a glance to Eldred, or either of her companions, the girl-child _skipped_ away into the Forbidden Forest. With a glance between each other, the other two followed without question. Eldred said nothing at all, but he thought them all the more as fools.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Luna. I didn't know you had a mother?" Hermione spoke, not delicately, but with compassion. Ron glanced at her, and grimaced. His thoughts were written over his features; better you then me. He was impatient to be on the trail of his best friend, but wasn't willing to lose Luna along the way. Harry would never forgive him that. So it was better to try to talk to Luna, to get her to follow, rather then leave her behind or let her get hurt or lost within the Forbidden Forest. Not that he didn't think that Luna couldn't take care of herself - if she had her mind on it, but the trouble mostly was that Luna's mind wandered, only focused when Harry was around. She'd look for him now, but that didn't mean she'd look in the logical way.

"I don't. Well, not one _living_." Luna allowed with a small smile puzzling her otherwise determined heart-shaped face. Wisps of silver hair fell about her face like mist. Ron had always guessed her to be a bit loony, and maybe her blood was part-human, but that didn't make her any less serious when she set her mind to it. This strangeness wasn't entirely unlike her, but she didn't make up odd little stories like where this seemed to lead.

"Then how are we to talk to someone dead?" Ron asked of her, his patience spent. His voice was a tad sharp, and Hermione looked to him gritting her teeth and glaring. He knew she thought he wasn't helping. He shut his mouth, determined this time to keep his silence.

"A rather stupid question for a wizard to ask. Do you not think so, Jasper?" It wasn't Luna who spoke, but the voice was as melodious and airy. It brought a chill along his spine, to think he was hearing ghosts; for surely he was seeing one. She was slim and small, just like Luna, with amber eyes glaring. Ron knew then that she'd understood his words to be insult and taken to disliking him.

"Mother…!" Luna cried her greeting, clearly glad and admonishing in one word, as only Luna could be.

"I'm sorry darling, but it is _true_. Even if I weren't what I am, magic bends and breaks the rules all the time. Would it really be so hard to speak with the ghosts of the dead, after all?" The ghost – who _wasn't_ one, but _was_ apparently very dead – asked, a small smile dancing over her lips impishly. Wisps of brown hair framed her face, an oval, rather then a heart - but sharp chinned and almond eyed like Luna.

"And what are you?" Hermione asked, wary eyed, and Luna hung back from hugging and touching as she usually would, Ron felt - for their sakes. There was something predatory about her mother, as if she thought of all things being flesh and blood and prey. Ron worried what they'd stepped into so unknowingly. In the future – if there was one later – he'd make a point to ask questions of Luna _before_ something like this happened. It would not have been a problem if Harry were here, Luna would have babbled it out like a bubbling spring, even without his urging or saying a word.

"A vampire, little witch. Now, my lovely little girl – why did you seek me out?" Mother asked daughter, unsmiling. For the first time, Ron and Hermione both became aware of the young man who stood at her side. His eyes were the same glittering ruby red as they remembered Sanguini's being; he held fast to the other vampires's hand, as if tied and chained to her. He was very carefully not looking at them, and holding his breath.

"I had to speak with you. A friend of mine has gone missing. He is important to me. Like a brother, not like Jasper." Luna told her in soft tones, almost soothing, but clear and demanding like a child's cry. Finally, the vampire smiled, and it was a lovely sight, soft and warm and giving.

"Then we must find him, as he is precious to you, and so few are." She told her daughter, tapping a finger to her bottom lip.

"How will you find him?" Ron asked, unable to help speaking to her for the first time. There was something about her that drew someone in, as eccentric as she seemed like her daughter. Maybe it was being a vampire, but Ron did not think that that was all that it was.

"I see things that are decided in the future. He must be somewhere, for someone to have put him there, and then someone must have answered those needs. It is only now a matter of asking the right question." Ron couldn't follow such logic, and with a look to Hermione it looked like she wouldn't either. For all that, Luna was nodding earnestly as if willing them to accept and understand. They couldn't – but didn't dare tell Luna that. Her mother closed her eyes, and though her expression was peaceful, she frowned – and she looked suddenly pained.

"Alice…!" She cried out, a soft weak sound, and stumbled as if she might fall. Jasper, her companion and the vampire that stood beside her, caught her, holding her against him until she relaxed, smiling up at him.

"Volturi. He is among the Volturi." Alice stated, so sure they dared not doubt her. Hermoine frowned only a little, visions and seeing and fortune telling not to her liking, but she would not argue when it brought such results.

"And where are they?" Luna asked of her mother, as if puzzled to be given such a vague answer as a name.

"Volterra, Italy." Jasper answered, looking between the three of them, then to Alice as if he regretted saying so.

"Thank you, mother…" Luna absentmindedly bounced in place, her thoughts already awhirl seeking how's and whys leaving all else to another's worries. It was her nature, and neither Ron nor Hermione begrudged her of it.

"Then leave finding him there to us." Ron said, as it became apparent that Luna would leave Alice without saying a word otherwise. Alice still looked thoughtfully to Jasper, biting her lip between her teeth as she frowned, shaking her head only once before turning to look to her daughter and the pair of her friends.

"No. We will go with you." Luna did not seem at all surprised by Alice saying as much; only Jasper spoke to question her.

"We will?" He was amused at not being asked, of course, but there was a dread to him as if he did not want to dare encounter others who shared his nature.

"Yes, Jasper, I have seen it." Alice was smiling fondly at him, likely she was often indulging his whim of avoidance over mingling, but there was a new sharpness to how she seemed now. She would not be denied.

"Then so it will be." Jasper echoed her, unsmiling, but his grip on her tightened with the memory of whatever he feared and must now find himself facing.

It was not the most promising or reassuring start, Ron thought with some irony, to know that whatever else the Volturi were, a vampire would hesitate in meddling with them. Ron and Hermione would not let that sway them, not when the Volturi had so eagerly stolen away their first friend.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Harry stood uneasily. It was then that he noticed; Harry could hear singing, if he _listened_. It lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him – tugging at his attention, in eerie intensity, once he heard the tone, it entangled him. Snared him like some common fly caught in a half seen web. Holding tightly to his newly returned wand, Harry ventured carefully from the rooms he had woken in. It would do him no good against a vampire, true, but he felt bare without it.

Half expecting to be pounced upon, or questioned, once he set foot outside the odd rooms he had woken in, he was disappointed - and very much relieved - to find that there was no reaction to his movements which he could detect. That did not mean he wasn't being watched – it merely meant they (whoever was watching) didn't think it was worth it that he know he was being spied upon.

Perhaps they were curious of what he would do.

Anger bubbled low in his belly, his fingers clenched down around his wand, reminding him he was not entirely helpless. Whatever they had in mind for him, he was not prey. The melody had shifted – calming, soothing, Harry frowned as he came to a staircase. It seemed to be where the song was leading him. He climbed the stair, fingers trailing alone the somehow older stone wall, as with the other at his side, wand in hand.

Or the singer was, very likely, as _aware_ of him, as he was of the song. If that was the case; what was the reason for calling him out like this? Was it some strange greeting, or someone seeking a meeting with him, or more devious _\- a test_? Harry didn't know the answers, and he suddenly, very badly, _wanted_ to know, this – at least. Yearned to know this, the answer to why such lovely music was played _here_ , in a place where death lingered in the stench of blood and earth. To know, _this why_ , at least, even if everything else was rendered a mystery to the likes of him...

He stopped a stair short of where the next floor began, peeking around to be sure of his welcome. No one leaped out at him, no one so much as breathed. At first, he thought he was alone. Then he saw them, two women clothed in black gowns and trailing robes of some silken sheen that gave a sort of light.

Then he looked above, puzzled, for everything else bellow had been lighted by torches, or stubborn electric light, but that was not the case here. Above him hung a dome, like atop some sacred church, it was etched and painted with scenes of happenings long ago, for all that the faces were very much familiar to him; it was a window. Awashing the skins of the pale vampires below with sleepless red eyes, their impossibly hard skin, cold to the touch, yet gleaming with the light like hidden jewels. The looked perfect, at peace and undisturbed.

A note of a piano was struck, building haltingly to join the melody of the voices. Harry looked again to the deathly still women, only their lips moving to give voice; none of them were playing the piano that sat across from where they stood together. Another had joined them, or perhaps this one had only sat too still for Harry to have first taken notice. Harry took the final step into the wide enclosed balcony.

The music and voices ceased, abrupt and jarring. They were there and real and Harry had dared disturb them; a mistake he knew he might come to regret. The two women looked to him, now, with expressions impossible to interpret. Only the male vampire sat silently at the piano, staring at him as if he had never seen the likes of Harry.

"We have been waiting for you, Harry Potter," her eyes were red and her lips black, and that seemed strange and backward for a moment, then passed as she spoke again low and hypnotic, "I am, Sulpicia, wife of Aro; and this, my sister-companion, Athenodora, wife of Caius. We see you, Harry Potter, and mean you no harm." Sulpicia smiled, and Athenodora seemed only to mimic her, her eyes just as eerie red but her lips a mix or purple-blue. All three vampires had spun-gold hair, lovely and luminous – as if they had nothing to hide.

 _Then why am I afraid?_ Harry wanted to ask of Sulpicia, but dared not say so aloud.


	4. Lust At First Lick

The music and voices ceased, abrupt and jarring. They were there and real and Harry had dared disturb them; a mistake he knew he might come to regret. The two women looked to him, now, with expressions impossible to interpret. Only the male vampire sat silently at the piano, staring at him as if he had never seen the likes of Harry.

"We have been waiting for you, Harry Potter," her eyes were red and her lips black, and that seemed strange and backward for a moment, then passed as she spoke again low and hypnotic, "I am, Sulpicia, wife of Aro; and this, my sister-companion, Athenodora, wife of Caius. We see you, Harry Potter, and mean you no harm." Sulpicia smiled, and Athenodora seemed only to mimic her, her eyes just as eerie red but her lips a mix or purple-blue. All three vampires had spun-gold hair, lovely and luminous – as if they had nothing to hide.

 _Then why am I afraid?_ Harry wanted to ask of Sulpicia, but dared not say so aloud.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"It's a pleasure, then." Harry said, for what else could he say? He had lied, of course, but he did not think the vampires would know _that_ – unless they could smell a lie. Harry found his attention at once drawn to the golden male vampire, for his eyes and hair were lush amber, and his skin glistened like polished white stone. He seemed safer to look at then the bloody eyed females.

"Isn't it?" Athenodora murmured in question, as if she really was not very sure. Rather, actually, as if she was not sure that _Harry_ felt what he was saying was true. She was _confused_ about it. Harry could not help looking at her again, out of the corner of his eye. It chilled him that her dark lavender lips had curled into a smile that reminded him keenly of a satisfied cat. She was obviously pleased to have caught onto his fib so easily. Harry did not know why, or how, and so he looked again to the only vampire that had not said a word and was not being too eerie. Silent, yes, but Harry did not feel that there was any harm in his intent quiet.

"Oh," Sulpicia spoke seeing that Harry and the other vampire were staring at each other now, "this is Carlisle's boy, Edward, very talented, but so very young. Take care of what you think, he reads thoughts and no distance saves you from his… _gift_. He's never met a wizard before, have you Edward?" Black lips sneered, as if being young and ignorant offended her.

"No, ma'am. Never, I thought they weren't real, or had died out." Edward spoke, looking determinedly away from Harry, as if afraid of giving offense now that their notice was upon him. Sulpicia and Athenodora looked between each other, as if they found his words amusing. Harry swallowed, because it was not the _friendly_ sort of amusement, between friends. It was a bitter sort of irony of the sort that Mad Eye had, when he told them what had happened with his scars, and yelled "constant vigilance" in the next breath.

"It's Sulpicia, Edward," she spoke patiently in a tone that told Harry that this was not the first time she'd said as much to Edward, and likely would not be the last, "tell me, what do you hear of his thoughts?" Harry took a step back, unable to help himself, even while remembering that Sulpicia had said distance didn't lessen Edward's talent.

 _It's alright. I won't hurt you_. Edward felt like bright steel mixing with rough bronze, wrong and lessening them both with the mingling of their thoughts. Harry couldn't help from flinching at Edward's mental presence, even as the voice rang through his head and he couldn't ignore it for fear that Edward would deafen him trying to be heard. Harry was looking to the floor and trying to get his mind to shut itself up, he hadn't had the lessons in defensive Occlumency and attacking with Legilimency for nothing after all. Still, doubt crept in, would he be able to block Edward? This _wasn't_ magical. It was… _something else_ , somewhat cold, clinical, and worse - deadened.

 _Stop, please. What do you want_? Harry asked, unable to help his response, he was snappish, and probably being rude, but there was a vampire slithering about in his head and he felt entitled.

 _Sorry. You are fascinating. It's feels brilliant, really, are all wizards like you_? There was very real awe as Edward answered, and Harry got the feeling that Edward was talking about his magic more then his mind. Edward wouldn't know to find the difference. And, Harry knew, in a lot of ways there wasn't one. A wizard wasn't anything without magic, not human, and certainly not whole. Hermione had confessed to being of two opinions to why a person has to be magical, it was in the blood - sometimes. That only explained purebloods, and not those who were born without any magical relatives. Other times, was her theory, something was _missing_ in a person that only magic could fix, sometimes magic _fixed_ this in a person before they were born – or as they grew, and they broke – or were whole. There wasn't a way to tell either theory for truth, but magic did as it was willed.

 _I don't know. What does it feel like_? Harry asked in turn, soft and settled with the strange feeling like metal in his teeth, glancing to Edward to see the vampire-boy was looking resolutely down to the piano keys. He'd seen that Harry was uncomfortable with eye contact, and was trying to repair whatever offense Harry had taken to it.

 _Alive. People, you know, the ordinary sort, some of them are so lonely they don't notice anything but other people. Locked up in their own minds, they go rather crazy, even if it isn't of notice, everyone is a little mad._ Harry reflected on the few normal people he'd known, and sort of agreed, everyone had quirks and it made them who they were. It wasn't always nice, or easy, but they lived the only way they knew.

 _Vampires are focused, intense; they know about power and staying alive and do not care about anything about living, though they are dead._ Edward glanced up, as if unable to help himself, and when green eyes met gold, seemed pleased that Harry was not shying away from his gaze anymore.

 _You're like that, intense, focused, and a survivor but… alive, everything you've seen and done, it's vivid, bright as if it happened only moments ago – I can sense it all, as if you're me – but it isn't me, it's you – it's just…brilliant._ Edward murmured the last part, aware that he was struggling to make Harry understand, while Harry would not – because he was whom he was - what he was.

"Edward?" Sulpicia inquired sharply, as if she felt she'd been forgotten. She hadn't, but Edward looked up at her, as if he'd forgotten she'd asked him to touch his mind with Harry in the first place. Maybe he had, Edward resolutely been focused - on him - since Harry had first stepped into the upstairs. Edward might not have needed any prompting at all to listen into Harry's head. It was a scary thought, but worse would be if Sulpicia _knew_ anything more solid then whatever she suspected.

 _Don't tell her anything!_ Harry shouted urgently toward Edward, who winched. He was quick to cover the involuntary movement by an absent shake of his head, as if distracted suddenly by Sulpicia having spoken.

 _I wouldn't betray you_! Edward's gold eyes glared up at Harry though the fall of his hair. Sulpicia _might_ read it as being offended at being unable to reach into a wizard's mind at whim. Harry was at once relieved when Edward looked then to her, then away.

"Nothing." Edward lied, flatly, and though Athenodora frowned, it was only in puzzlement.

 _Say nothing; Athenodora has a talent - precognition while people sing, or while they are in extreme emotional distress. Sulpicia is the one that drew you up here, she is like one of those sirens in sea stories_. _They've tasted of your emotions since you came here_ _and they like how you taste, feeding off emotion rather then blood._ Harry had wondered, and didn't find with the explanation any soft of relief – or comfort. It was just as well. Edward hadn't meant for him to find any.

"How utterly disappointing…" Sulpicia sighed with a pout, discouraged at Edward's apparent failure.

"Carlisle might have better luck." Said the way it was, Harry knew Edward meant it to be a last-resort suggestion, delivered reluctantly. Still, they fell for it, their depression fading with whatever thought in that softly spoken suggestion they found appealing.

"He does have a way about him, with his strange comparison." Athenodora admitted, and it was with a dismissive wave of her hand that Sulpicia signaled that she was apparently giving up in whatever she'd meant to do with Harry in a temporary defeat. Harry found himself very relieved, as it hadn't sounded pleasant having his emotions being more then "tasted" – he was very careful to pretend puzzlement, rather then his disgust of them. Grateful didn't even begin to come close to how he felt toward Edward.

 _Come with me_. Was the whisper in his head, as Edward brushed shoulders with him while walking toward the stairs. Harry took one last glance at the two vampires, and followed Edward. Let them think he'd been manipulated into the choice, but he knew who'd he be the safer with. Edward played the part of a sulky vampire very well, and they were half way down the staircase before Harry got up the nerve to meld his thoughts willingly with Edward.

 _Thank you_. Edward only smiled, and led the way further into the catacombs the Volturi laid claim to. Harry could not help but think that his near escape had been almost too easy, and that Edward might be leading him into a trap.

 _Still don't trust me, Harry? That's alright I haven't really earned it, yet._ Edward allowed, glancing only once behind himself to be sure Harry was following him without much difficulty. Harry had been annoyed to find that Edward had the longer legs between the two of them. Harry had the nagging feeling that Edward either had guessed this, or noticed his thoughts. When you "heard" thoughts, it wasn't hard to "feel" them, and know if they were positive or negative, it was the same sort of concept as someone picking up the emotional cues in speech.

Edward stopped at a passageway with no door, knocking his knuckles against the stone so they scraped with an echo that made Harry tense. It boomed through the silence, and with a raised brow that Edward ignored, it proved to be effective. A fair-haired man with the same gold eyes as Edward stepped out of the gloom, and though Edward was handsome – there was something rough about him. This other man, for the vampire was a man – not boy – was polished and breathtaking. Harry found his words had caught in his throat, even as Edward was welcomed with a curse and a hug about his shoulders.

His newly discovered speechlessness _might_ have had something to do with the small trail of pale hairs that lead down the sculpted chest and down into sweat pants. Harry thought it was a very real possibility, for the first time in his life - that he might be jealous of an article of night clothing.

 _This is Carlisle._ Edward's bemusement at Harry's enthralled fascination was evident. He would never live it down, but right then, Harry didn't really _care_ what Edward was going to tease him about. Carlisle was smiling at them, and Harry felt his magic thrumming under his skin like a living thing and Carlisle the sun. It was impossible to say or think anything of anything or anyone else.

Harry didn't like that.


End file.
